


Picking up the Pieces

by FrankiValerie



Series: Lylathrel (WoW ship) [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Death, Death Knight, F/F, F/M, Scourge, Undead, War, Wrath of the Lich King, battles, ice crown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9982733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankiValerie/pseuds/FrankiValerie
Summary: Long after the fight that ended her life, Lylawe returns to pick up the pieces of her past.





	

Lylawe looked around her, feeling a stab of painful memories.  Across the snow she saw bones, weapons, remnants of barricades popping up like morbid daisies from the untouched white blanket.  All around her were the bones of fellow Sin’Dorei who had come to fight the Lich King and failed… All who had been _too dead_ to be reanimated as scourge or Death Knights, like she had been.

The wind whipped around her and she more remembered than felt the ice cold.  She pulled her cloak around her shoulders out of habit more than necessity.  _It would be here, somewhere under the snow.  It had to be here._      

She tried to think back to the moment of her death; at what was around her, what might have been leftover.  Her mind flashed back to the battle.  

She recalled scourge around her, swarming ghouls and armoured skeletons with glowing blue eyes.   Her mother, an outstanding mage, had fallen, and lay no fewer than 10 yards away her body burnt, broken and trampled by monsters.  A small part of Lylawe had died then, but that was not her death 

She remembered seeing her father, a proud paladin, buckling behind his shield, his sword broken.  Another wave of scourge blocked him from view and when they had cleared, only his shield and shattered blade remained.  Another part of Lylawe had died then, but that was not her death.  

With a broken heart beating slow in her chest, Lylawe charged forward into the scourge, her grip firm around her axe… what had happened next? It seemed a blur of fury and grief.  

Her eyes scanned the snow again, for a reminder or something distinctive that could jog her memory.  There was a flag poking out of the snow a few feet to the right.  It held the mark of the Sin’dorei, that much she could see, but it’s colour was no where near as bright as it had been.  The flags had been carried forward with the first wave and then discarded when blade met bone.  This was where it began, that much was certain.  Her fall was ahead.  

The snow crunched beneath her boots as she walked ahead.  Part of her wished the sharp, icy wind would blow all the snow away and expose all beneath, but a more dominant side never wanted to see the bones of their failure laid bare.  She felt the ground become steadily more uneven and knew then she was likely standing on the frozen and forgotten bones of the fallen.  She looked around at the flag, and decided she was far enough away from there that the axe would be nearby.  So she knelt in the snow and began to dig. 


End file.
